


Rise Above This

by Skyshadow3246, Wolfloner



Series: Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, BDSM, Blindfolds, Caning, Dom Loki (Marvel), Dom/sub, Drinking to Cope, FrostIron - Freeform, I accidentally some plot, M/M, Minor Violence, Nitramene, Non-Negotiated Kink, Spanking, Sub Tony Stark, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, non-negotiated scene, uh oh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyshadow3246/pseuds/Skyshadow3246, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/pseuds/Wolfloner
Summary: How any part of the bomb hadn’t detonated was a question for another time. “Bucky, T’Challa, fall back!” Deadpool, as far as they knew, couldn’t actually die. But still. “Deadpool, hold very fucking still.” There was a bright orange glow emanating from the remains of the white casing--Tony had been right. Fucking Nitramene.





	Rise Above This

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after "Follow You Down" but can be read alone with minimal confusion (I'm pretty sure).
> 
> OTL Sorry this has taken so long, all! I've just been kind of _off_ these last few weeks. Hopefully I'll get back in my writing groove, though!
> 
> As usual, this is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you see anything that needs fixing, or anything that needs to be tagged. <3

_ Hate the mind _

_ Regrets are better left unspoken _

_ For all we know, this void will grow _

_ And everything's in vain  _

_ Distressing you though it leaves me open _

_ Feels so right, but I'll end this all before it gets me _

\--Seether,  _ Rise Above This _

  
  


Unfortunately, their celebratory dinner was going to have to wait. Tony woke up to some of the worst possible news.  _ This is what they’d been hiding _ . Rogers hadn’t been uncomfortable being around Loki, he’d been uncomfortable LYING to them. Tony knew if he let himself think for too long he’d be overwhelmed by the nasty thoughts filling his mind, so he just focused on being angry. At least being anger usually lead to him being productive.

 

He was in the Iron Man suit and  _ off _ before talking to anyone. This was the fastest way, shy of trying to talk Strange into helping. It wasn’t until he was over the Atlantic Ocean that he realized he also could have asked Loki for help getting there faster. Whatever. Didn’t matter. For all he knew, Loki had been in on keeping this secret, too. 

 

It had taken less than three hours to make it to the small village. What had been the small village. Now it was just a pile of rubble. He did the only thing there was to do: hit the ground and start--carefully--moving aside the remains of buildings. Once in a while he found a person, still alive. Still breathing. But for every survivor he found, there were over a dozen dead bodies. He couldn’t tell what the population had been before, maybe a few hundred? 

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of yelling. He turned and was only slightly surprised to see that T’Challa--Black Panther--had arrived (or had he always been there?). It looked like he was mostly focusing on the wounded. The yelling had been a mix of the sounds of pain as someone was moved, and him barking orders, making sure he could be heard. They weren’t speaking English, and it sounded like he was switching between isiXhosa and something else to Tony, not that he was any expert. 

 

As he returned to his work, he was aware of others moving around him. They didn’t matter. He didn’t take note except to make sure he didn’t manage to hurt anyone else. However, as he was grabbing hold of a large chunk of...he wasn’t sure what it had used to be, someone spoke to him. 

 

“Careful, Stark. There are three people down there. Alive. I assume you’d prefer to keep them that way.” Tony didn’t have to look. Loki. Was there, with him, somehow. Not  _ somehow _ , he corrected himself. He knew damn well how Loki had gotten there. 

 

“You got echolocation?”

 

“Don’t be obtuse.” Loki chided, helping him to free the trapped survivors. Two children and a young woman. Possibly their sister, or mother, or a family friend. Hell. He didn’t know.

 

They worked together in relative silence, but having Loki there made finding the survivors much easier. That had been his priority anyway, of course. But now it was much more actionable. It was when he was helping an old man over to the impromptu triage area that Tony realized that Loki wasn’t the only one who had come. Bucky and Deadpool had joined them. 

 

He couldn’t help but stare as Bucky helped set a broken arm. “HYDRA made sure the Winter Soldier knew first aid?”

 

Bucky didn’t look up at him. “No, asshole. The Army made sure James Barnes knew fucking first aid.”  

 

Tony squashed down the burst of fondness he felt. Bucky had  _ known _ about this. Had taken his phone the night before to make sure Tony didn’t find out. Made sure that Tony couldn’t  _ help _ . How many more survivors might there be if he’d gotten here the night before?

 

He returned to making himself useful, leaving Bucky and Deadpool to assist in triage and first aid. He wasn’t sure why the hell Deadpool knew anything about treating injuries, but he could find that out later. Maybe. Deadpool had also been in the know, too.

 

It was only after making certain that they’d found the remaining survivors (43 people, in total. T’Challa told him that the population had been around 500,  _ before. _ ) that Tony returned to moving rubble, trying to find as many of the deceased as they could. At some point Deadpool must have decided that he could be more useful away from the triage and started looking for...well, Tony wasn't sure. Wasn’t sure until he heard Deadpool yelling, “Found it!”.

 

He saw T’Challa and Bucky rush towards Deadpool’s location. Loki seemed to be holding back, waiting to see what Tony did. “What was he looking for?”

 

Loki shrugged. “No idea. Half the time I can only guess what’s running through his head.”

 

Tony frowned. T’Challa and Bucky had reacted quickly, so they probably had some idea what Deadpool had been after. Only one way to find out. 

 

They navigated their way to the epicenter of the blast zone. As soon as Tony realized where they were, he couldn’t believe he’d bothered wondering what Deadpool had been after. Of course it was whatever had caused the damage. And Tony already knew what had caused the damage. A bomb. A rather effective one at that, he acknowledged ruefully. It’d probably had a sleek white casing and bold black lettering with his own fucking name branded on the side. 

 

As soon as his eyes fell on the item Deadpool was holding, his visor lit up, details and calculations scanned up faster than Tony could keep up with. But that was fine. “Mr. Stark--”

 

“I see it, JARVIS.”

 

How any part of the bomb hadn’t detonated was a question for another time. “Bucky, T’Challa, fall back!” Deadpool, as far as they knew, couldn’t actually die. But still. “Deadpool, hold very fucking still.” There was a bright orange glow emanating from the remains of the white casing--Tony had been right. Fucking Nitramene.

 

Except… Howard had made certain that they never sold Nitramene. He’d made certain they never sold Nitramene. And yet, that was undeniably Nitramene and the weapon had certainly had STARK written across it at one point or another.

 

Fuck it. Issue for later. Getting rid of it, neutralizing it,  _ something _ . That was the issue at hand. Bucky and T’Challa had listened and backed away. Tony wasn’t sure if they were far enough back. He wasn’t sure there was a safe distance away. Fuck. At least it looked like Deadpool was capable of taking orders, as he was standing stock-still.

 

“Sir, judging by the color, I estimate that the Nitramene has reached 97% volatility. If it goes off, the best case scenario is a 900 yard implosion.”

 

“Thanks, JARVIS.” Strange would be very helpful at that moment, Tony decided. Hell, magic in general--fuck. “Loki!” 

 

“Here. What needs to be done?”

 

“Deadpool’s holding Nitramene. If that goes off… everyone is fucked. Everyone within a half-mile at least.” Tony swallowed. From this distance he couldn’t tell which form the Nitramene was in. Didn’t know for sure how to go about neutralizing it. 

 

“I can take care of it.” The next few seconds were a rush of fragmented activity. Loki went from standing next to him, to appearing next to Deadpool, to both of them vanishing, to both reappearing at his right, the Nitramene now gone. It was another moment before Tony recognized the high pitched sound he heard as Deadpool’s breathing.

 

“What’d you do with it?”

 

Deadpool looked slightly shaken as Loki answered, “Space.” They watched as Deadpool moved away from Loki’s grip, fell to his knees, and then curled in on himself. Tony knew the feeling. 

 

It was another few hours of work, recovering bodies. T’Challa had insisted on Deadpool sitting with the injured, as he seemed to be suffering some symptoms of shock. By the end they’d recovered over 400 bodies and carefully laid them out in one of the more depressing scenes Tony could remember seeing. T’Challa thanked them for their help. They weren’t sure if everyone had been recovered, but he was certain they could handle it from there. The injured would be taken to Wakanda for treatment, both physical and psychological. There would be a memorial for the dead. Tony would be given a date and time, in case he wanted to attend. Tony couldn’t tell him if he wanted to or not. He didn’t know. 

 

As soon as niceties had been exchanged, Tony’s underlying drive of “move, do, act” faded, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

 

What happened next was something of a blur. He was aware of traveling via the  _ Realm Between Realms _ , Deadpool being back to his usual wisecracking self, and returning to The Tower. At some point he had removed the suit, and had found his way back to his penthouse and poured himself a drink.

 

He was pretty sure he was on his second (or third?) drink when Loki reappeared and settled on the stool beside him. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

 

“Nope.” Tony admitted. He wasn’t alright. Wasn’t going to be any time soon, either. 

 

“Are you just planning to drink until you are?”

 

“Maybe.” He stared at the glass in his hands as something occurred to him. “Did you know?”

 

“I learned about the attack after I woke up.”

 

“Last night?”

 

“I knew…” Loki paused. Tony didn’t look at him. “I knew there was something going on. The Captain and Thor were on edge about something, but they wouldn’t tell me what.”

 

“And what the hell were they even thinking? Not telling me about this? When people had DIED? I could have helped! I could have--”

 

“Tony,” Loki interrupted softly. “The bombing was this morning. All anyone knew last night, at least according to Wade, was that there had been reports of someone getting ahold of some discontinued Stark weaponry. They weren’t even sure  _ where _ the weapons were being held.”

 

Tony deflated a little. At least no one had kept him from helping people who had been injured. Small victories, he supposed. He drained his glass before pouring another. “ _ Still.  _ They should have said something.”

 

“I agree.”

 

They drank together in a companionable silence for a time. Tony had been quite happy to learn that despite his weird shift in mortality, he could still get drunk. Incredibly drunk, in fact, which is what he was working towards right then.

 

“What I don’t understand,” he muttered, “is how they even got the Nitramene. Dad never sold it. I never sold it. I,” he paused, trying to remember the absolute shitstorm he and Pepper had had to wade through after learning of Stane’s betrayal. “I don’t think Obie ever did. But I don’t know. Might’ve. There was that fucker… Blane? Blake? Something like that. He went and changed the formula so…” He crossed his arms and pillowed his forehead against them. 

 

Loki rubbed small circles against Tony’s back. “It’s not your fault.” 

 

Tony snorted, incredulous. “Of course it is. My company. My weapons. My apparently appalling security.” He shook his head. “Over 400 people are dead because of me.” Tony froze, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Today. Over 400 people are dead because of me,  _ today _ . Really, it’s more like thousands. And that’s  _ since _ I shut down our weapons manufacturing. Before…” He clenched his eyes shut, willing the wave of nausea to disappear.

 

“You need to stop this self-disparagement. The only ones at fault are those who set the bombs. Neither you nor your father are to blame for what happened today.”

 

“If it weren’t for us--”

 

“They would have found another way to attack that village. Speaking from experience, if someone’s goal is to hurt others they will always find a way.”

 

Tony just shook his head. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the logic in Loki’s argument--he’d had the same argument with Pepper and with himself enough times to see it--it was that it didn’t matter. They didn’t find another way to kill those people. They used the vastly superior weapons that he and Howard had created. They killed so many more people than they’d have been able to without the Nitramene. 

 

* * *

  
  


Loki left him to his own devices for the better part of three days. In the rare moments of coherence in between Tony’s valiant efforts to drown his emotions in liquor realized that he was sulking. But being drunk and miserable seemed better than being sober and miserable, so. That was that. He would just be drunk and miserable.

 

After the first night, Loki abandoned all attempts to hold any conversations with him. He did occasionally come by with notes. Tony had a small pile of them that he hadn’t even glanced at. He’d look at them, eventually. 

 

He thought that Pepper might have come by at some point. They might have even talked a bit. He wasn’t sure. Couldn’t remember. He’d have to check with JARVIS, and apologize appropriately if she had. Even now, she’d still waste her time dealing with his shit. She deserved so much better. 

 

On the third day, Loki had apparently had enough. He appeared in front of Tony wearing jeans and what appeared to be a Stark Expo shirt. That was enough to send Tony into a fit of giggles. Loki rolled his eyes over him. “Alright, this is done. You’re done. I’m not going to watch you try to drink yourself into a coma, Stark.” Loki reached down and pressed two fingers against Tony’s forehead. 

 

Before Tony could protest, or even so much as blink, he found himself completely. Fucking. Sober. He wasn’t even hungover. In fact, physically, he felt incredible. And it pissed him off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

Loki grabbed the liquor bottle away from him. “What? Three days of wallowing in self-pity not enough?” Loki pulled Tony to his feet, away from the corner of the room he’d dragged himself to at some point. “You need to shower, and eat. And drink some fucking water. Now. Go.” 

 

Tony would never have described Loki as having a “dom voice” but he couldn’t find a better adjective right then. And having orders to follow did make his sudden sobriety easier. He could focus on his shower, and then on eating the food that Loki put in front of him. He could also focus on the glasses of water that Loki poured for him to drink.

 

After the second glass of water, Loki sat down at the opposite side of the table and stared at him. If he had to guess, Tony was pretty sure Loki was trying to figure out what he wanted to say first. It probably wasn’t going to be anything kind. “Now that I’m confident you’re not going to keel over and die,” Loki started, “what the  _ fuck _ , Stark?”

 

Tony returned his stare, uncertain. “Can you be more specific?”

 

“Did you drink anything besides whiskey the last few days?”

 

“Yes.” Tony answered, honestly. Of course those other things were vodka, rum, tequila, and a bottle of wine that he really wish he could remember the taste of, but still.

 

“Anything non-alcoholic?”

 

“I honestly don’t know. Probably?”

 

Loki let out a long sigh before swearing. “...Self-destructive fribble.” 

 

“Fribble?” Tony asked.

 

“A fool. You’re a fucking...no. It would be easier if you actually  _ were _ an idiot, you know that? If you were even half the idiot you’ve been acting the last few days.”

 

Tony wasn’t entirely sure if he was being complimented or not. “Sorry?” He offered, lamely.

 

“Aside from driving everyone else mad with worry, what were you hoping the gain?”

 

Tony broke eye contact. “I didn’t want people to worry.”  _ I don’t want people to  _ care. “I just…” This also felt like arguments he’d had with Pepper. 

 

“You just what?”

 

“I don’t know!” Tony groaned.

 

“Fine. Then I'll share my theory.”

 

Like anything was liable to stop him. “Go for it.”

 

“To start, you seem to be under the impression that you are far more important than you actually are.” Loki held his hand up when Tony made to argue. “I’m not saying you aren’t important, Stark. I’m saying that you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’ve somehow got both a savior complex  _ and  _ a martyr complex. You think you can save the world while simultaneously seeking out suffering and self-destruction at every turn. It might be impressive if it weren’t so unbelievably infuriating.”

 

Tony couldn’t think of how to try to argue that Loki was wrong. He thought about pointing out that Loki had more than a little bit of a god complex, but he wasn’t sure if that counted, given that Loki was actually a god. It also wasn’t actually the point.  _ Hell _ .

 

“Now, with your mental gymnastics in mind, I have a theory. Given your fucking savior complex, anything less than perfect, especially if it ends in someone being hurt, is unforgivable to you. Anything that shows that, without a doubt, you’re a human. Gifted, privileged, intelligent, courageous, yes. But still. Only human.” Tony bit back the urge to tell Loki to fuck off. “So, when things go wrong, like a few days ago, or...ever. Because  _ something _ will always go wrong, that’s just the way of things. That’s when your martyr complex likes to take notice. If you can’t be perfect, then you should suffer. Should be  _ punished _ .” Loki was quiet as Tony took another long drink of water. “How am I doing so far?”

 

“So far you’re a dick.” Tony said bitterly. But he turned Loki’s words over in his mind. It wasn’t like he would tell Loki he was right--he didn’t know if Loki was right--but his reasoning was sound. It certainly followed Tony’s cycle of behavior, if nothing else. “You  _ might _ be right.” He pushed the empty glass away from him. “Great. So maybe I know what’s wrong. What’s next? People are always saying that knowing what the issue  _ is _ is the important part. But…”

 

“Like I said. You’re under the impression that your options are a dichotomy. Either you save everyone, perfectly, all the time. Or you deserve to be punished.”

 

Tony looked up, meeting even green eyes. “And?”

 

“And I’m tired of watching you try to punish yourself.” Loki stood and strode around the table, using the exaggerated height difference from their positions to strike as imposing a figure as he could manage. As far as Tony was concerned, it worked. “So if you’re just going to keep waiting around for fucking divine retribution for your imagined transgressions, then that’s what’ll happen.”

 

“Divine retribution?”

 

Loki grabbed Tony by the front of the shirt and lifted him enough so that he could kick the chair out from under them. Something that he managed with far more grace than Tony thought was fair. Without giving him a chance to get his legs under him properly, Loki shoved him across the room, pinning him to the wall. “Tell me you want this,” Loki hissed in his ear, freeing one hand from Tony’s shirt, only to press it against the Arc Reactor. 

 

Tony wasn’t sure if it was surprise, or pain, or the Reactor pressing against his lungs that made his next few breaths so difficult. Did he want this? He wanted  _ something _ . And fuck, maybe this would actually help. It probably wouldn’t make him worse, at least. “I want this,” he gasped.

 

Loki let him drop to his feet, his hands still holding him to the wall, but with barely any force. He waited quietly as Tony caught his breath. “JARVIS. Whatever Loki’s planning, I consent. You know the drill.” Tony didn’t wait for JARVIS to reply--knew that no reply would be forthcoming. 

 

“Calling off the attack dogs?”

 

“Possibly.”

 

“JARVIS is smart. You don’t think he could figure things out from the context?”

 

Tony shrugged, as well as he could. “I’d prefer to be certain we won’t get interrupted, if that’s fine by you.”

 

Loki flashed him a quick grin, “It is.” And then Loki was kissing him: hard and deep and with as much teeth as anything else. Tony started to respond in kind, only for Loki to press against his Reactor again. He let out a whimper at the sensation, but did his best to relax into the kiss, just  _ letting him _ . “ _ Góðr hundr _ ,” Loki whispered against him. “I’m going to hurt you,” Loki promised, “and you’re going to do whatever you need to do to cope. But you’re just going to take it.”

 

Tony didn’t have room to nod. “Ok.”

 

Suddenly the hand over his Reactor pressed in again,  _ hard _ . Tony’s vision went white. It wasn’t the pain--although it did hurt--but the overwhelming panic that drove him to dig at Loki’s fingers, his arms, trying to pull him away. There were practically klaxons screaming in his brain as he realized he was never going to win that fight. Was never going to overpower Loki. Couldn’t back then. Couldn’t now. 

 

Distantly, Tony knew-- _ knew _ \--that he could use his safeword and Loki would stop. Would let him go. And they wouldn’t have actually gotten anywhere. He would still be as self-destructive as ever. And Loki had asked for consent. Wasn’t going to kill him. Probably wouldn’t even injure him. He forced his hands away from Loki’s arm, fisting them in his shirt, instead. Not trying to push him away, but needing something to ground him. 

 

Slowly the klaxons quieted themselves, and the panic receded. The press of the Reactor still hurt, but felt tolerable without the rush of panic that had accompanied it. Eventually he was even able to let his hands drop to his side, and found that he could manage even, if shallow, breaths. He could  _ breathe _ . 

 

Loki pulled his hands away, catching him as Tony stumbled forward. Tony pressed his face against his shoulder, catching his breath properly. His chest ached, but that was fine. Loki was being conspicuously quiet. When he pulled back to look he caught a brief glimpse of concern before Loki quickly schooled his expression.  “I’m good.” Tony managed.

 

“Good. Get undressed.”

 

“Um.” Tony glanced around at what suddenly felt like an absurd amount of windows.

 

“Like you said, no one’s going to bother us. So. Clothes. Off. Now.”

 

Tony grinned at him. “What, not going to just magic them away?”

 

“Stark.” Apparently this wasn’t the time for teasing. Ok, then. 

 

Tony pulled his shirt and pants off, letting them fall into a small pile next to him. 

 

“Good.” Loki’s hand tightened over the back of his neck. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Tony couldn’t see him from this angle. He eventually let out a quiet hum, one that usually meant he was considering his options. “Hands and knees, Stark.”

 

Tony did his best to turn to look at him. “What?”

 

“You heard me. You can either go down on your own, or I can make you. Your choice.” 

 

_ Some choice _ , Tony thought bitterly, but did as he was told. Loki throwing him to the stone tile didn’t sound appealing in the least. 

 

He felt Loki press against the back of his head until he was looking down at the floor. “Bedroom.” Tony glanced towards the door, only for Loki to force his head back down. “Keep your head down and crawl.”

 

Tony felt a flare of indignation alight in his chest. Of all the shit they’d gotten up to, apparently  _ this _ was the one he was going to struggle with. He briefly wondered what would happen if he just refused, but it turned out that Loki wasn’t feeling patient, judging by the none too gentle kick that hit the back of his thigh. He bit back his complains and moved.

 

He had been right. Getting tossed onto the tiles would have sucked. Just crawling across them on his hands and knees was unpleasant. He was incredibly grateful for Pepper’s insistence at carpeting the bedroom. He stopped next to the bed, realized he had no idea what the fuck Loki was planning, so he just waited, trusting that Loki would supply whatever orders he wanted in due time.

 

Which was all well and good, except that keeping his head down while Loki walked around the room doing… whatever he was doing, was more stressful than it had any right to be. What the fuck. 

 

“ _ Góðr hundr _ .” If those were cognates, which seemed like a reasonable assumption, Tony was pretty sure he knew what Loki was saying. Which was a nice chance of pace, even if he wasn’t thrilled by the term of endearment Loki had chosen. “Stand up, and lean over the bed.”

 

Tony scrambled to his feet and hurried into position, bracing himself with his hands against the bed. “Like this?”

 

Loki gave him an appraising look. “If you think you can hold that position comfortably for a while.”

 

That gave Tony pause. He was confident he could hold this position, but since he wasn’t sure what Loki was going to do to him...might as well aim for comfort. He shifted again, resting his stomach and chest against the bed, pillowing his head over his crossed arms. “This still ok?”

 

“Fine.” Loki leaned across the other side of the bed, holding something in his hand. “Blindfold?” 

 

Tony lifted his head to stare at him. This was the first actual question Loki had asked since they started. Since before they started, actually. He could say no. Could say that he greatly preferred being able to see what was about to happen, thank you very much. “Ok.” He said instead, closing his eyes and letting Loki place the padded blindfold around his head, buckling it into place. He couldn’t comfortably open his eyes, and even when he did, he still couldn’t see shit. This was actually a really impressive blindfold. “Neat.”

 

He caught what sounded like an aborted laugh as Loki moved away from him, and resumed wandering around the room. He noted that Loki was actually making enough noise that Tony could get a pretty clear idea of where he was at any given time. Considering that he knew that Loki could be absolutely silent when he wanted to be, Tony appreciated the gesture.

 

He heard (and felt) when Loki came to stand behind him, dropping several somethings onto the bed. He still jumped, startled, when he felt Loki’s hand on his ass. It was gentle, just resting there. But his mind had been so wound up with  _ what’s going to happen? _ that it had still surprised him. 

 

“Cope with this however you need to,” Loki reminded him. It was the only warning he got before Loki struck him, hard. Tony grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, trying to just breathe through the assault on his ass and thighs. Fuck warming up, apparently. He was mildly distressed by how quickly he managed to lose count of the strikes. It was only after, against his best efforts, he cried out from one particularly brutal impact that Loki stopped. 

 

Tony couldn’t help but flinch when Loki touched him again, now rubbing and kneading at his heated skin. “We’re not done,” he announced. “You’re counting for this next part.”

 

“Counting,” Tony echoed. “How many?”

 

Loki let out a thoughtful sound. “Undecided. As many as necessary.”

 

Tony let out a long breath. That was fine. He could do this. Could withstand this and much more, if he needed to. Had before. Could again. This thoughts were cut off by a whooshing sounds of  _ something _ cutting through the air. The sound was foreign and he couldn’t place it before the  _ something _ struck him, leaving a white hot line of pain across his tender flesh. “What the  _ fuck _ ?” 

 

“That’s not counting.”

 

Tony’s brain stalled as it tried to piece together what had just happened. “Did you just hit me with a  _ cane _ ?” His brain finally supplied something plausible.

 

“I did.”

 

_ Huh _ . He could still feel where the cane had stuck him in sharp relief. “One.”

 

He’d barely gotten the word out before Loki struck him again, just below the first blow. Three through five followed in the same pattern, leaving Tony panting and groaning from them. He heard his own voice crack from the strain as a howl ripped from him when strike number six fell diagonally across the preexisting welts. He wasn’t sure how long it took, maybe a minute, maybe more, before he was able to school his breathing and rein in his sobs. “Si-”

 

“Red.” He heard the cane drop to the floor. “Safeword. I can’t--” 

 

Tony reached up to unbuckle the blindfold, ignoring the protests from his body at the movement. He tossed it to the side and did his best to turn and look at Loki. “It’s fine, I’m ok.” The intense pain the movement caused let him know he was lying through his teeth. “Will be ok.” He amended.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Loki looked fucking broken. About as upset and distressed as Tony had ever seen him.

 

He wasn’t sure if Loki was apologizing for hurting him, or using the safeword, or neither, or both. It didn’t matter. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he insisted. He felt Loki’s fingertips ghost across the small of his back and his pain vanished. Which, honestly, was one of the more useful things Loki’s magic bullshit was capable of. It was also something he’d normally protest against, but after seeing Loki’s expression, he wasn’t keen on arguing with something that made him feel better.

 

Now that be was able to move properly, Tony rolled over and pulled Loki onto the bed next to him. Immediately Loki’s arms were around him, holding him as close as he could manage. He rubbed his face against Loki’s shirt, letting himself be comforted by the scent of him. 

 

They laid like that for a while, in a comfortable silence. Long enough that the sunlight coming in through the windows shifted. Honestly, he was content to stay there for the next few days if they could figure out a way to make it happen.

 

“Mr. Stark?” JARVIS’s voice quietly interjected into the room.

 

“No.” Tony groaned.

 

“I hate to interrupt--”

 

“Then don’t.” Loki groused.

 

JARVIS actually paused. “I apologize, gentlemen, but protocol dictates that I am to inform Mr. Stark whenever someone enters his lab without his accompaniment.”

 

That got Tony’s attention. “Who’s down there?”

 

“Mr. Parker.”

 

Tony let out an exasperated sigh and burrowed back into Loki’s chest. “Peter’s fine.”

 

“He’s very concerned about you, sir. He has also stated that he’s not leaving until he sees you.”

 

“So, tell him I’m fine. And  _ busy _ .”

 

“I did. He said he had something he wished to speak to you about.”

 

“He’s not going to leave you alone.” Loki murmured into Tony’s hair.

 

“Fuck. I know.” He extracted himself from Loki’s hold. “Guess I’ll go let him know I’m alive.” After he sat up, he turned and looked back at Loki, “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Want to come with?”

 

Loki closed his eyes. “If it’s alright with you, I’d prefer to remain up here, for now.”

 

Tony frowned slightly. “Of course that’s alright. Let me know if you need anything?”

 

“Will do.”

  
Feeling like he’d much rather stay to make sure Loki was  _ actually _ alright, he grabbed his clothes from the living room and ventured downstairs to assure Peter that things were OK.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr, [@Haarii-the-quilava](https://haarii-the-quilava.tumblr.com/) if that’s your thing! :D
> 
> Aside from the bigger plot that's growing (oops), I only have 2 more stories that are pretty set as "I want to write this happening" so I'm all about writing prompts. You can either drop them here, or on Tumblr!


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